Sweet Surrender

I’ve never really been a sweets person, I’m actually more addicted to carbs to be perfectly honest. Breads and pastas are my weakness and what I turn to when I need something comforting, or something quick, or even something...

An All-Canadian Treat

Everyone who knows me knows that I have a love/hate relationship with my mother. Don’t get me wrong, my mother is loving and wonderful; a teacher and mentor; smart, giving and understanding. She taught me how to cook and how to sew. She...

Sushi for Kids

If you know me at all, you know I love sushi. That salty-fishy-yumminess is music to my tongue and I can’t get enough of it. So of course, I passed this adoration down to my eager son not long ago, taking him to sushi restos in Toronto...

Summer is Coming (Soon)

Once the weather starts to warm up, time seems to exponentially disappear on me. The warmer months of the year are the busier months of the year, for everyone I supp0se. But, somewhere in amongst camp days, school days, soccer and t-ball games,...

Finally

Why is it that when you are waiting for something to happen it always seems to take forever? Every day seems like an eternity when that day isn’t the day you thought you were waiting for.
That saying “good things come to those who...

I’ve never really been a sweets person, I’m actually more addicted to carbs to be perfectly honest. Breads and pastas are my weakness and what I turn to when I need something comforting, or something quick, or even something unnecessary (which is probably a bad thing… but I’m not going to analyze it right now.)

Everyone who knows me knows that I have a love/hate relationship with my mother. Don’t get me wrong, my mother is loving and wonderful; a teacher and mentor; smart, giving and understanding. She taught me how to cook and how to sew. She taught me how to stand up straight and how to stand up for myself.

One of the few things she never really taught me to do was to iron. I hate ironing; she loves ironing. Ironing is the bane of myexistence; ironing is the household chore she does the most often. I don’t so much as own an iron, she has a separate room dedicated to its specific use.

If you know me at all, you know I love sushi. That salty-fishy-yumminess is music to my tongue and I can’t get enough of it. So of course, I passed this adoration down to my eager son not long ago, taking him to sushi restos in Toronto and letting him pick whatever vegetarian options he wanted.

Once the weather starts to warm up, time seems to exponentially disappear on me. The warmer months of the year are the busier months of the year, for everyone I supp0se. But, somewhere in amongst camp days, school days, soccer and t-ball games, treks to the pool, weekend road-trips and the seemingly unending picnics in the park, I do find time to cook.

I adore warm-weather cooking for its simple arithmetic: (meat + veggies) x grill = fabulous dinner. I find the scents of grilling and all warm-weather cooking irresistible: all those fresh herbs, fruits and vegetables make me lightheaded (in a good way). The flavours are diverse and splendid…and tempt my palate well into the cool crisp months that follow (we Canadians bar-b-que all winter long, it’s a part of our genetic makeup.)

Why is it that when you are waiting for something to happen it always seems to take forever? Every day seems like an eternity when that day isn’t the day you thought you were waiting for.

That saying “good things come to those who wait” has never held more importance to me than it does these days. I have been waiting and waiting for good things to come…the waiting is the hardest part (thanks, Tom).

It began innocently enough. Leith asked me the other day if we could have a picnic.

“A picnic?” “Yes, mama. On a blanket. With food we can eat with our fingers.”

It made sense. We’d done it last summer a few times on the university grounds across the street. We had packed sandwiches and juice and took the wagon and a few books and a Frisbee. It had been a lot of fun and obviously something he remembered enjoying.

Raising a child is hard work. Bringing up a boy who is headstrong, intelligent and ambitious is a difficult job. Nurturing him pretty much on your own is an exceptionally thorny occupation, full of pitfalls and “danger” signs…and lots and lots of bruises.